James Rush Manley – Writer

Jonah gagged, pulled slime from his mouth, then lay still in the sand. Panting hard, gulping his first real air in three days, he wallowed in half-digested flesh, bone splinters, and gritty muck that violated every pore. Blazing glare pierced his eyes. Bit by bit, first with fingers, then with hands, he dragged himself away from the sea. His vision cleared a little, and he focused on scarlet rivulets running across his white, bleached skin. Well, I’m alive enough to bleed, he mused in stupor. Then he remembered why. read more ...

Flying 35,000 feet over the Rockies at dawn, corduroy rows of cloud extend in orderly streets below. Mists cling to jutting mountain peaks, forcing wind aside into tumbling turbulence. That hurly–burly air torments us lower-altitude pilots. But up here, sipping coffee under cobalt sky, the shredded clouds below offer only artistic distraction. No thrashing about, fighting for control, banging head against window, or smacking cabin overhead. Clearly, it’s better up high—smooth and easy to take the long view of life. read more ...

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. Baloney.

Thick armor and quick ducking deflect limb and rock. But words quickly pierce. Even ensconced hearts remain defenseless. Harsh words stir up anger. Many words invite sin. Smooth words seduce. Fool’s talk brings a rod. Talk supplanting action leads to poverty. Gossip betrays a confidence then divides brothers. On the other hand, the wise know to hold their tongues until the joy of aptly spoken words shines like golden apples set in silver. A kind word cheers, while a timely word brings good. And, of course, a gentle answer turns away wrath. read more ...

Elias hung, trapped in thick darkness that clung without touch. He couldn’t say if he stood, sat, or lay. Shivering without motion, he pushed against bonds but found none. Of course, he realized. He had nothing to push with. But at least his head stopped hurting. Then he remembered.

He hired himself out to build a house. “The finest in Nain,” they said. How his mother’s eyes glowed when he told her. Food, real food again, the first since father’s death.

Death? He recalled clinging to a rope high on the inside wall. He hammered at the stubborn roof timber. Crack! A glimpse of a falling beam, the surprise of sharp pain, and then nothing. Where was he? Cold invaded, searched, then pierced deep, aiming for his soul. Icy fingers snatched and tossed him into an endless pit. read more ...

We laud order. Vertical walls, level floors, and square doorframes make the craftsman’s reputation. Clear proposals mark the honest merchant. Full disclosure labels the trustworthy leader. Direct speech seems right, wholesome, and godly. We Western believers, in particular, point authoritative fingers at “let your yes be yes and your no be no.” We expect both church and consecrated life to base logical design upon rational strategy. Ought to be simple, right? Plan your flight, then fly your plan. read more ...